


These Thoughts

by EatSleep



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance, trying to fix season 8 with smut and love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatSleep/pseuds/EatSleep
Summary: Sansa wanted to prove everyone wrong. She wasn’t just the stone-faced Lady of Winterfell. So, during the Battle of Winterfell, she goes against Arya’s wishes and stays to fight in the battle. Only to end up being saved by Sandor Clegane once more, igniting those hideous feelings she’d long tried to suppress.Others pairings as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Sansa Stark.**

 

She paused in the courtyard with the blade in her hands. Sansa didn’t like how easily she had been dismissed by her sister. It was obvious that Arya loved her but it didn’t matter to Sansa. She wanted to be more useful than belonging in the crypts. 

Sansa turned to look back up at Arya on the battlements. She had her back to her watching the horrific scene beyond the castle walls.  _ I can fight. _ She shook her head at the ridiculous idea. Of course she couldn’t.  _ What a silly idea. _

But then she heard it. The screams and chaos. She glanced over at the guarded gates with a surprised look. She wasn’t going to be of use to anyone on the battlefield, but she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps she’d be able to save one person who was fated to die.

Sansa could feel the change in the air. The screams and roars of fire caused her to head towards the crypt door. Tyrion would be down there, and she could trust him. The man may have stopped giving his wise talks, nonetheless he was a man she trusted, and a man she would be happy to die alongside if that were to happen.

She spotted the guards that stood outside the crypt door, yet her feet pulled her to a stop. The knife in her hands seemed to burn her skin, and with a heavy sigh she walked away from the crypts. She knew her way around Winterfell with her eyes closed, so she disappeared inside to hide from those who were in the courtyard awaiting any breach to the gates.

The horrifying screams echoed behind her, and she stopped to think about everyone she cared about. Jon was out there. Arya was out there. Bran was in the Godswood being protected by Theon. Brienne was leading her first company alongside Jaime Lannister and Podrick Payne. 

And...The Hound.

Sansa stopped at a nearby window. She could see the orange glow of fire with disheartened eyes.  _ Fire is his only weakness. _ She pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

There was no point in dwelling on her past feelings. All of them had been destroyed a long time ago. She felt nothing when she thought about him. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood watching from the window, but before she knew it, the gates were opening up and numerous faces she knew came rushing through. Her eyes couldn’t linger for too long because she knew that she had to find somewhere else to go.

As she ran down the corridors, she started to regret her impulsive decision. What use was she to anyone?  _ I won’t be able to make it back to the crypts. _

Sansa knew that Jon was going to scream at her the moment he found out she wasn’t in the crypts, but she was sick of being told to stay put and do nothing.  _ Perhaps the fight is over? _ She stopped at another window to find everyone had gathered in the courtyard, staring impatiently at the castle walls.

_ Silence. Why is it quiet? _

She took a few steps away from the window, then carried on towards the Great Hall. She needed to be in a place where she had numerous exits.  _ There’s no use hiding in my chambers since there’s only one way out and one way in.  _ It was the easiest way for her to get herself killed.

When she arrived, she quickly hid herself underneath the High Table. The surge of battlecries caused her to jump and hit her head.  _ That cannot be a good sign.  _ How anyone could feel calm around the sound of death was beyond her.

Sansa focused on breathing evenly and staying quiet as the fight went on around her. Soon enough, the castle started to shake. She let out a yell of fright as rubble fell from the ceiling and crashed onto the table.  _ I have to do something; I need to go out there and fight. _

She got out from underneath the table, clutching the dagger in her right hand. She muttered under her breath that she could do this, then she headed over to one of the exits. All of her confidence fled her body as she walked around the corner to see a man being ripped apart by four monsters.

Her back hit the wall and her hand flew to her mouth to stop the sound from reaching the bloodthirsty creatures.  _ I need to get to the crypts.  _ She moved a few steps only to hear nothing but her heeled shoes clanking against the stone floor.

A chorus of grunts followed, and she had no choice but to run as fast as she could. She glanced over her shoulder to see the creatures quickly scurrying in her direction. She wanted to scream for help. She truly did. However, she wasn’t stupid enough to do so. She had no idea if any more of the Dead had made it inside the castle, and the last thing she wanted to do was attract a horde of them.

She made it to a small staircase with the hopes that it would slow them down for a few moments. She lifted up the hem of her dress and ran faster up the stone steps and down the corridor.

Sansa didn’t have a specific location in mind, however, Winterfell was like a maze to some but not to her. She knew of shortcuts that would easily lose the four beasts chasing after her. She could hear them snarling and snapping their jaws; she tried her best to ignore the trickling fear that shot down her spine.

Suddenly, she heard screams from somewhere else in the castle. It seemed to drown out the other noise because she recognised the yell immediately.  _ Arya.  _ Her heart exploded in her chest as she changed direction abruptly to head towards her little sister’s screams.

_ No, no , no, no.  _ She had to be OK. Sansa remembered the way she fought Brienne and dealt with Little Finger, surely a few creatures would be easy for her to handle. Sansa took in a staggered breath, and in her blind panic, she started screaming her name.

“Arya! Arya, where are you?!” She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see she’d lost the Dead that were chasing after her. “Arya!”

She walked down some steps to find the leftovers of chaos before her. Ahead, a door lay on the floor off its hinges, and the destruction from the Dead crumbled around her. She could hear the loud groans ahead, and she took a few moments to catch her breath.  _ I have to find her. _

As she peaked through the broken doorway, she spotted a few stragglers of the horde that had ripped through the place. Her grip tightened on the dagger. There was no other way to do this. She could either turn around and head away from the direction she knew Arya had gone in or head back towards the large fight happening outside.

Sansa heard the slow steps of a creature coming closer to the door, so she threw herself around the doorway and latched onto the cold beast. It was easy enough to throw it to the floor, however, stabbing it in the head caused her to hesitate for a few seconds.

It lunged up at her sending them both back onto the floor. Her dress ripped during the fall as her knife clattered against the floor. She pushed at its snapping jaws with a frightened scream escaping her lips.

There was no time to look, but she could hear that the other creatures had noticed the scuffle. With a loud scream, she pushed with all her strength and it landed on its back. She grabbed the dagger and slammed it into its skull. Before she could take a moment to gather herself, numerous Dead came charging towards her.

Sansa didn’t get a chance to think about where to go next, instead, she pulled the knife from the frozen skull and took off running, away from where her sister possibly was. Her feet cried out in pain so she quickly shook her shoes off her feet. Her heavy gown and cloak started to slow her down, leaving her no choice but to toss her cloak from her shoulders and rip off a front part of her dress.

Her legs were finally free to make longer strides, and she started to lose the small horde around the corners she took. However, her panicked mind didn’t catch on to the noise ahead of her. Sansa raced around the corner only to come face-to-face with a much larger horde outside a door to the Great Hall. How had she ended up back here?

The Dead all turned to look at her, but the moment she expected them to race towards her, they all stopped. She watched in horror as the slain Dead around her started to rise up with new life.

“No…” she whispered.

She took a few steps back just as the large group found their new burst of energy and charged towards her. Sansa took off running with a scream. The previous group that had been chasing her came stumbling around the corner. Sansa staggered to a halt with wide eyes.

“Seven Hells!”

Her quick reflexes caused her to turn quickly and head down the right corridor before the cold hands could reach her. Shards of glass and stone sliced at her cold, bare feet. No one was meant to walk around shoeless during winter, and Sansa’s warm, northern blood did nothing to protect her from the ice that had consumed the castle.

She arrived at a four-way intersection of the castle, and her befuddled mind tried to make sense of where she was in her Home. The sound of the horde fast approaching caused her heart to sink in her chest, and she felt her body shutting down. 

_ I can’t give up...think about how strong Arya is. You have to be like her. _

It was then that she heard fast footsteps coming from behind her. A hand roughly grabbed her arm and forcefully turned her around. She let out a loud scream and readied her dagger to attack the ice monster, only to stare into the fiery eyes of The Hound.

“You stupid girl! What the fuck are you doing out here?!” He shook her in his anger and she felt a wave of emotions crash over her.

She was happy to see him. Happy to see someone she recognised, alive.

“Do you want to die?!”

“N-No!” she exclaimed, then she was tossed behind him as the horde came running around the corner.

The Hound pulled out his sword and reached one hand behind him to force her closer to his back. She latched onto the back of his thick tunic and held her dagger tighter. Then, just as he went to kill the first one that approached, they all dropped to the floor, dead.

Sansa grabbed hold of his arm and stepped to his side to observe the fallen before her.  _ Dead...it’s over...Jon killed the Night King. _

Suddenly, Sansa felt the hot pain in her feet. She stumbled back with a pained cry and slid down the wall to take the weight off them. The Hound was on his knees before she slumped to the floor. He grabbed her ankle without asking and inspected her bloody foot.

“Stupid shit like that gets you killed,” he grunted.

Sansa’s eyes fell on his scarred flesh. “Thank-you.”

He growled lowly. “Spent half of this battle protecting ya sister. Didn’t know I had to look out for you, Little Bird. Perhaps you still are the naive girl from King's Landing.”

His words felt like a punch to the gut. She tried to move away from the man that used to terrify her, but he huffed in response and lifted her off the floor. She could tell he was in pain from his own injuries, yet he easily bundled her against his chest and headed down the corridor towards the other injured.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

As she was brought out into the courtyard in his arms, guilt and shame washed over her. The Lady of Winterfell had no place on the battlefield; the piles of bodies proved that her efforts had been useless. What the hell had possessed her to do such a thing? She was good at the planning and leading of people, but never at defending and protecting.

That type of thing was left to the man carrying her.

Sansa glanced up at his bloody face. Something twisted at her insides that made her shudder. It wasn’t the same way she’d felt looking at Ramsay or Joffrey, but there was a similarity between them. She couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.

He brought her over to a group of three, and she awaited the uproar from her personal guard. Brienne turned around with a look of horror on her face. The poor woman looked to have been to hell and back, yet she still had the energy to charge towards Clegane with her sword drawn.

“What happened, Lady Sansa?” Jaime and Podrick joined her.

“Somebody thought they could join in the fight,” he hissed.

“Milady, you belong in the crypts where it’s safe—“

A loud crash came from across the courtyard and they all turned to see Tyrion and a select few of innocents walk out. Some of them were covered in blood and wounds, and Sansa suddenly remembered that the Dead had risen.  _ The crypts are full of the Dead. _

She squirmed in his hold but his grip didn’t loosen. “Release me, Clegane.”

“As you wish, milady,” the smugness was obvious on his face as he dropped her on the hard ground. She let out a scream of fright, thankfully Brienne moved quick enough to soften the landing. She watched the man she loathed disappear into the crowd of survivors.

“Are you hurt?” Brienne asked.

“I’ve cut my feet, but that will have to wait,” Podrick came over to help her to her feet. “Gather the survivors in the Great Hall.”

Sansa started to order everyone around with the support of Brienne to keep her standing. This was the only part that she was useful for, gathering the injured so they could receive treatment. The adrenaline rushing through her started to turn into exhaustion when the Dragon Queen staggered through the broken gates covered in blood.

Although the pair had conflicting interests when it came to ruling, Sansa could see the heartbreak on her face. It was similar to the blank look she’d worn after seeing her father beheaded.

Tyrion appeared at Sansa’s side with a sad smile on his face. “You weren’t down there.”

“No,” Sansa glanced down at him. “Your Queen needs you.”

He went ahead to take her hand, and by the time he reached the doors to head inside, she looked ready to collapse. Sansa shook away the sympathy she felt and started to search for her family.

“Have you seen Arya?” She asked Brienne.

“I’m afraid not, milady. I’ll go and search for her,” she said, but Sansa’s hand stopped her. “Stay here, please, I don’t think I can walk much further.”

“What were you thinking? You should’ve been inside where it was safe.”

“Lecture me later, please. I have conflicting feelings about it as well.”

“You’re lucky Clegane was there to help you.”

Sansa flinched. “So it seems.”

* * *

 

Sansa stood before her mirror in her solar straightening out the front of her gown. Her feet were wrapped up tightly in a comfortable pair of shoes that eased the pain. Her skin had turned more pale than normal after the panic set in that she could’ve died out there because of her silly decision.

She was yet to see Jon, but Arya had given her ear a good old bashing after she told her that she’d been inside the castle. Everyone now knew that Arya had been the one to kill the Night King, and Sansa felt a sense of pride when she looked at her little sister now.  _ She’s come a long way from the girl she was as a child. _

Loud footsteps echoed through the half-open door, and just as she awaited the knock, it flung open. Sansa stilled her movements and looked over her shoulder at Jon’s furious face.

“You—” he took a moment to breathe. “Do you ever think about your actions?!”

“Just get it over with and shout at me,” she muttered. “We have celebrations to attend to.”

Jon advanced on her. “What in seven hells were you thinking?! Anything could’ve happened to you out there, Sansa, anything!”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“How could you be so stupid!”

Sansa raised her chin slightly with narrowed eyes. “My stupidness got us our Home back from Ramsay Bolton, remember?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know exactly how you meant it,” she moved past him but he stopped her with his hand.

He pulled her closer so she could look into his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just I knew that I had to watch out for Arya and Bran, but I had no idea you were out there.”

“I was hardly out there,” she squeezed his hand. “I stayed inside the castle where there wasn’t much going on.”

“I’m just glad The Hound was there to save you —”

“He didn’t do much saving,” she pulled her hand away. “The Dead died before he could swing his sword at them.”

“You sound bitter,” he said. “I thought you respected him because he was the only one who looked out for you in King’s Landing.”

Sansa sighed loudly. “I don’t want to talk about  _ him. _ ”

He held his hands up in defence, then the pair linked arms and headed down to the Great Hall.

The room was alight with cheers and songs. Jon was immediately swept away by his friends, and given praises that made him blush. Sansa took note of the distance the Dragon Queen seemed to be keeping from everyone, and the distant look on her face told Sansa that she didn’t wish to celebrate so soon after losing her friends.

Their bodies lay ready for burning beyond the castle walls. Sansa chose to let the men and women who fought, a moment of relaxation before reality set in.  _ I’ll be putting Theon to rest tomorrow.  _ She wasn’t sure how she felt about him, yet the pair had been through so much under Ramsay’s ruling, that she felt as if a part of her would be dying tomorrow.

Sansa saw Bran sitting before the fire so she headed over to see if he was all right. “How are you feeling?”

Bran moved his head slightly. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

Her brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“I saw you in the crypts, but my visions changed to you running around the castle.”

Sansa still didn’t understand what had happened to Bran. She missed the young boy who had a cheeky smile and a sweet voice.  _ My little brother doesn’t exist anymore. _

“I apologise if I scared you, Bran.”

“I don’t feel fear,” he turned his head away from her. “He’s watching you.”

She placed her hand on the back of his wheelchair and slowly scanned the busy crowd. Her eyes landed on Clegane who stared back at her with a deep frown. She looked away quickly.  _ I should at least thank him...but...I can’t deal with the feelings that consume me when he’s around. _

Perhaps it was fear that she experienced around him? Yet, she’d felt fear many times, and the emotion she felt was nothing like it. He’s the type of man that says cruel things just to get someone to stop talking to him. A man so unpredictable that even a man like Little Finger wouldn’t be able to figure him out.  _ And I learnt a lot from him. _

“Go…” Bran was no longer interested in their minimal conversation.

Sansa smiled sadly to herself. It hurt her greatly that her brother was no longer himself, however, she was grateful he was still alive and well.

She went about getting herself a goblet of wine, and settled down at the High Table. She listened to all the tales and cheers while enjoying the drink in her hand. A part of her dwelled on the fact that she could’ve died tonight because of her impulsive decision-making, but she kept forcing the irritating voices to the back of her mind. 

Her eyes kept going back to the table Clegane sat at. He kept growling at anyone who go too close to him, and she saw the resemblance to his given title, The Hound. She did owe him her thanks, but she knew it would be thrown back in her face with a cruel comment.

_ There’s no point. _

She had been willing to keep that mindset for the rest of the night, however, a young girl appeared at his side. Sansa watched through heated eyes as the girl flirted with him. Before she knew it, she was standing up and making her way over. He barked at the woman to go away, and Sansa passed her as she scurried off.

“How are you ever going to find someone if you bark at them like a dog?”

His drink paused at his lips as his eyes landed on her. “I ain’t lookin’ for no cunt.”

Sansa sat down opposite him fiddling with her goblet. “I owe you my thanks.”

“Don’t owe me shit, girl.”

“I do,” she sighed. “You came to my aid when I needed help.”

“Shouldn’t have been stupid enough to do it in the first place, Little Bird.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why does one mistake all of a sudden make me stupid?”

He eyed her cautiously. “You’re only stupid cuz it almost got you killed.”

“And you’ve never put yourself in a situation to get yourself killed? Didn’t you willingly fight in the battle?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, lass.”

He avoided looking at her face.  _ What’s wrong with my face?  _ She took in a few steady breaths then reached out to grab his hand. His whole body froze, and he finally looked into her eyes.

Sansa squeezed his fingers only to pause at the sight of vulnerability on his face. She’d never seen him look like that before. The words she’d been ready to speak died on her tongue, leaving her with nothing else to do but stare back at him. Her lips parted slightly at the sight of hunger in his eyes.

Suddenly, it happened.

The feeling she’d read about in daft romance texts and poems. The turning of her insides spread to her thundering heart and caused everything in her body to come alive with desire. She desired him. How had she not noticed it before? She accidentally groaned aloud from the new feelings spreading throughout her body like a disease. He pulled his hand away from hers and stared at her in horror.

Unable to face him any longer, she got to her weak knees and fled the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for the lovely response to the first chapter!


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

“Goodbye, Theon,” she lowered the flame to the large grave and watched the fire consume the horizon. One of the guards took the torch from her shaking hand, and she turned away from the fire.

She lead the group back into the courtyard where everyone dispersed to carry on with the repairs. Sansa watched everyone move around; some would pass with a smile while others kept their heads down. There had been a sombre atmosphere ever since the celebration last night, and it seemed everyone could sense that there was a pressure to head into another fight.

Sansa rested her hands at the small of her back and held her head up high. She had to make sure all the northern men knew that she would support them no matter what the Dragon Queen requested, regardless of whether Jon had bent the knee.

A familiar voice came from behind her, and she inclined her head to the left as Clegane walked past her with Arya. She waited for him to look her way, but his attention was fully captured by her younger sister.

Anger shot through her and she narrowed her eyes at the fading pair.  _ Why am I jealous?  _ She had hardly slept last night, her mind consumed with the new feelings he had caused her.  _ They mean nothing...nothing, absolutely nothing. _

She waited for Jon to appear at her side. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

“No,” she said. “I already know the outcome.”

“Sansa,” he sighed. “Don’t be like that.”

She turned to him with a steeled expression. “I know how the talk will go, and I’ll be disregarded because  _ you _ bent the knee.”

“I’ve already told you that we can trust her; we wouldn’t be here without her help, Sansa.”

“We wouldn’t be here without a lot of people’s help,” she stepped closer to him. “The Night King would have killed Bran had Arya not been there.”

“Now, that’s not fair Sansa!”

She flung her gown around as she stormed away from him. There was so much she wished to say to him to change his mind about the Dragon Queen, but she knew that his answer would always be the same. It also didn’t take a genius to work out that something romantic was going on between them.

Sansa made her way inside, keeping her hands at the small of her back as she observed the people around her. She needed to keep a clear mind before going into the meeting.

At the end of the corridor she spotted Arya on her own. Sansa looked around for Clegane, and the jealous feeling stopped hovering over her heart.

“Arya!” She called out, and her sister made her way over.

“Lady Sansa.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said with a smile. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

“I’ll be behind you and so will Bran,” she explained. “Although, I don’t know how useful he’ll be.”

“He’s still our brother,” she reminded her.

“Yet, somehow he isn’t.”

Sansa hated how honest Arya was, more so than when she was a mere child. She had clearly been to some hellish places that had shaped her into the woman before her, yet, at times, she wished for her annoying sister back.

“Weren’t you with Clegane?”

Arya paused with a small smile.  _ What does that mean?  _ She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the pair shared an unbreakable bond that she’d never experienced with someone other than family. Arya had told Sansa about their time together travelling to find a living relative, and how Arya had left him to die.

But, somehow, the pair had rekindled and their friendship had blossomed into a father-daughter relationship.  _ They care about each other deeply, even if they refuse to admit it.  _ There it was again, that jealous feeling.

“He’ll be heading to King’s Landing regardless of how the meeting goes.”

“Why?” Worry pulled at her heart.

Arya’s smile widened. “He’s going there to kill his brother, and he plans on dying there.”

“What?!” A few people stopped at her outburst. “How can he be so stupid? I know that his brother scarred him, but surely he values his life more.”

“I don’t know,” Arya started to walk away still facing her. “Perhaps if he felt like he had someone to live for, he might change his mind.”

Arya’s laughter didn’t ease her worries, and Sansa stormed down the corridor to hunt down the idiotic man. Some people tried to stop her to ask questions but she brushed them all off with a determined look on her face.

She found herself back out in the courtyard. “Clegane!” she yelled, and everyone around stared at her in confusion. “Has anyone seen him?” Their confusion furthered. “The Hound?!”

A woman pointed towards the forge.  _ Of course he’s gone there, perhaps to grab a weapon so I can beat him with it.  _ On the outside, no one would guess that the Lady of Winterfell was panicking. She appeared cold and collected, holding her head up high as normal.

She entered the hot forge with determined eyes, and she spotted Clegane sitting on some crates with his back to her. She slowly approached him, and Gendry’s immediate bow to the sight of her gave her away. He glanced over his shoulder at her, but didn’t look into her eyes.

“I would like a word with Clegane, alone.”

“Yes, milady,” Gendry disappeared further into the forge leaving the pair alone.

“What do you want?” He turned away from her. “Got important shit to do.”

“Like killing your brother?”

She walked around the crate so she was in front of him. His attention was solely on his sword, and she placed her hands behind her back to stop herself from touching him to get him to look at her.

Those twisted feelings were back in her stomach, and the more she looked at his scarred face, the worse they got.  _ I should speak to the Maester, perhaps I’m coming down with something? _

“Don’t do it.”

He finally looked up at her. “I have to, Little Bird.”

“No, you don’t,” she took a few steps closer. “When the Dragon Queen goes down to King’s Landing the dragons will deal with him.”

His lip curled in disgust. “I didn’t know you cared so much—“

“Well I do!” She exclaimed. “I don’t want you to die, Clegane.”

He didn’t give away any reaction to her words. Does she need to shake him to get her point across?

Clegane got to his feet. She hated how much he towered over her, even though she was tall herself. He clearly wasn’t happy about what she’d said to him, but the burning emotions inside of her didn’t care.

She couldn’t let him go down to King’s Landing to die willingly. Arya’s words kept echoing around her mind.  _ How is Arya not enough to make him live? _

“You do not rule me, Lady Sansa,” he whispered harshly. “I’m a free man.”

She lowered her eyes to the dusty floor.

“I can do as I please without informing you of my actions. Nothing else matters but revenge, girl, absolutely nothing.”

“What about Arya?”

He laughed causing her to look back up at him. “That girl don’t need my help any longer. She can take care of herself.”

“Well...what about me?”

His bark of laughter caused her to flinch and regret her words. “Did you think that would work?” he mocked. “That you could come and flutter ya lashes at me and I’d give in? I ain’t no weak cunt, and no stuck up lady is gonna’ stop me from doing something that should have been done a long time ago.”

Sansa hated how easily he brought tears to her eyes. Her hurt pride caused her to grab a nearby rag and whip him hard. Although the impact didn’t cause the big beast of a man to move, he did respond with wide eyes, aghast that she had actually just hit him with a dirty rag.

“Don’t ever mock my feelings, Clegane!” she yelled. “What is wrong with you? I’m trying to stop you from killing yourself!”

He roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her against his hard chest. “What do you want from me, girl? I ain’t spoken to you in so many years, and all of sudden you care about my well-being.”

The harsh way he spoke sent a shiver down her spine, and she was left speechless looking into his dark eyes. The more she stared into his eyes, the less she noticed the scar. He was handsome in such a peculiar way and she couldn’t just let him disappear from her life again without knowing what these feelings meant.

Ever so slowly, she reached up her free hand and rested it on his scarred flesh. His whole body went rigid against hers but she didn’t move her hand away. A heat spread throughout her body that caused her throat to swell.  _ I’ve never felt like this before...desire...I definitely desire him. _

“Get. Off.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Push me away then,” she whispered.

Her daring side took over wishing to explore all these new feelings. His grip tightened on her wrist as she moved her hand down to his mouth and brushed her thumb over his lips. Her bright eyes scanned over every movement of his face, taking in the way he reacted to her touch. She’d never had anyone who reacted in such a way.

It was his damned eyes that gave it all away. She could see the battle he was having within his mind, trying to decide whether to push her away or give in to what she was doing.

Loud footsteps approached them “—Sansa!” She let out a loud sigh and stepped away from him to look at Brienne. “You’re late for the meeting.”

Sansa gave Clegane a lingering look that he refused to meet, then followed Brienne out of the forge.


	4. Chapter Four

_**Chapter 4** _

Sansa sat opposite the Dragon Queen with an apprehensive look on her face. The meeting hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, and to further the blow, Jon had confessed his true heritage in the Godswood. All she wanted to do was cry — weep for the brother she’d lost.

“Why have you brought me here?” The Dragon Queen asked.

She knew that she needed to keep herself calm, and act like the assertive Lady of Winterfell her people had come to know.

“You’ll fail,” she said.

This brought a smile to the Queen’s face. “How so?”

Sansa got to her feet to pace around. “Just think about what you’re doing! You don’t know Cersei like I do!”

“I’m going to take the Iron Throne with ease, with or without your help,” she tilted her head in a gesture that Sansa took offence to.

_ Why does she think she’s better than me? _

“You do realise that Cersei is in debt to the Golden Company?” Sana tilted her head back as if to mock her. “If you waited a few more weeks they’d abandon her side, and more than likely join your own.”

“My dragons can deal with King’s Landing, I don’t need men.”

“Then why bother making them march South?”

“They have learnt to obey their Queen,” she smiled to herself, and Sansa wondered if the ‘woman-of-the-people’ she’d heard of was still in there somewhere.

“Fine,” Sansa placed her hands on the back of the chair she’d been sitting on. With a heavy heart, she decided to beg for the lives within King’s Landing. “Are you going to kill all the children?”

“They follow Cersei—“

“How does a newborn babe know how to bend the knee?”

Her blonde head turned away from Sansa’s harsh words. “Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”

“Very well,” Sansa took in a staggered breath. “Go ahead and kill all the innocents for your own personal gain, but don’t be surprised when one of you beloved advisors or friends puts a knife in your back. If you go ahead and burn King’s Landing to the ground, you won’t live long enough to rule.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Sansa grabbed her goblet of wine. “I’m warning you. You didn’t grow up around politics, therefore you have no idea how it changes people. There is always someone waiting to put a knife in you, but if you’re a good leader with a kind heart, you’ll have people who will rebel against evil; people will fight for you because they know you’re the good side. If you go ahead and kill them all, you’ll be no better than the Kings and Queens who came before you.”

The Dragon Queen got to her feet, and turned to leave the room. Sansa sighed as she watched her leave only to bite her tongue when she stopped in the doorway.

“Would you bend the knee if I took King’s Landing peacefully?”

Sansa put her goblet on the table. “I’d consider it.”

With that, she left. Sansa returned to her seat and buried her face in her hands.

“That went well,” she jumped in surprise and turned to see Arya leaning against a bookcase.

“You shouldn’t listen in on people’s conversations Arya.”

Arya grabbed the pitcher of wine and poured herself a glass. “She won’t listen to what you’ve said.”

“One can only hope that she does,” Sansa muttered with tired eyes.

She’d got little sleep last night, her mind focused on so many things: the meeting, Jon’s true identity and how she’d almost kissed Clegane.

_ I was foolish to do such a thing.  _ What would her people think if they heard their Lady was fooling around in the forge with a foreign man.  _ That’s what he is, a foreign man with no place to call home. _

“So...I spoke to Gendry last night,” Sansa raised a brow. She knew something was going on between the pair, and she never thought Arya would actually come to talk to her about it. “He saw you and Clegane in the forge.”

Her drink paused at her lips. “He what?”

“He saw how close you were,” Arya smirked. “Do you like him?”

“No!” She exclaimed as a blush crept onto her cheeks. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re such a liar,” Sansa could tell Arya was enjoying her embarrassment. “However, I don’t think you should just seduce him to get him to stay.”

“I’m not trying to seduce him,” Sansa said. “I just wanted to make him see sense. He doesn’t have to go down to King’s Landing to die.”

“He’s always wanted revenge on his brother,” Arya took a sip of her drink. “I asked him to stay, but he told me to stop being so soft.”

Sansa smiled at that. She knew what type of man he was; he would easily insult those he cared about just so they wouldn’t get close to him and change his mind.  _ He’s a complex man with complex feelings. _

“Can I be honest with you?” Sansa asked.

“Go ahead.”

“When Ramsay raped me, I didn’t think I could ever feel anything towards anyone ever again. He’d messed me up physically and emotionally. Yet, there’s always been something about Clegane that stirred up these feelings inside of me. Whenever I thought about him, my body and mind would relax. I could never work out what it all meant, until the night of the celebration after the battle. I desire him.”

Arya watched her closely, and Sansa awaited her jokes and laughter. However, she saw the sympathy flash over her face. “I wish I got to meet Ramsay.”

Sansa couldn’t help but smile. “I took care of him.”

“So I heard,” Arya smirked behind her drink. “You’re almost as twisted as me, sister.”

“Shut up.”

The pair talked some more about what their next plan was. Even though Jon wasn’t officially a Stark, they still needed to protect him. Sansa wanted Jon on the throne.  _ He’s capable of ruling with a clear head.  _ However, she knew that any statement about his true parents could lead to the elimination of House Stark.

When Arya got up to leave, she paused for a moment then turned back to Sansa.

“Have you told him how you feel?”

“I eluded to it.”

“Tell him. He needs to know.”

* * *

 

She couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts whirled around her head to even consider relaxing in her bed.

Sansa threw away her blanket and got to her feet in her nightgown. Gods, she was tired. Her lack of sleep the night before rested heavily on her shoulders.  _ I need to get some sleep, tomorrow is a big day. _

She’d heard nothing from the Dragon Queen about their talk, and Sana knew not to hold her breath about the situation.  _ She’s not going to listen to me. _

With a heavy sigh, she walked from her room and past the guard fast asleep on the floor.  _ Somebody could’ve killed me by now, _ she tutted aloud and carried on down the corridor.

_ I forgot my cloak _ .

She turned to return to her room but she spotted someone out in the courtyard.  _ What is he doing? No! Seven Hells, he’s leaving! _

Sansa took off running through the castle until she staggered out into the courtyard. She approached him quickly and skidded to a halt in front of him.

“Where are you going?!”

He glared down at her. “We’ve already talked about this, little bird.”

She gaped up at him with tears in her eyes. “Please, don’t do this.”

He sighed.

There was something going on inside his head, and she wished that she could read his mind.  _ Why won’t he talk openly to me?  _ Sansa wasn’t stupid, she knew how rushed it all seemed. She’d just came out of nowhere telling him that she cared about him.

_ Am I not good enough? _

“Will you not wait until the morning?”

He shook his head. “Your sister will probably do something stupid, like follow me.”

Sansa wiped away her tears. “You don’t have to go to your death.”

“I do, little bird, it’s the only way to get rid of my brother.”

There were many things she wished to say to him, but all of it was out of selfishness because she wanted to explore these new feelings. Clegane clearly wasn’t aware of the way she felt, and it was obvious that he wouldn’t welcome it.

However, Sansa couldn’t help but think it would get him to stay.

“I…” she sighed. “Leave in the morning, please.”

“What do you want, girl?” He said roughly. “Ya don’t know me well enough to even care about what I do.”

She looked at him, worrying her bottom lip. “But I do care, Clegane, and the idea of you dying scares me.”

“You should be scared of me.”

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?!” She stomped her foot like a child. “I’m saying that I care about you!”

He laughed down at her. “And you think your feelings matter to me?”

She responded immediately with an “oh.”

They stared at each other for a long time. Sansa tried to come to terms with these new feelings as well as dealing with his rejection. Perhaps she’d dwelled on Arya’s words too much?  _ If she’s not enough to get him to stay, I don’t know why I thought I could do it. _

She wished to scream childish things at him, but a voice in her head told her to be mature. If he died in King’s Landing, she at least wanted him to know that she would be hurt if he died. He needed to know that there were people waiting for him to return.

“Good-bye, Sandor,” she placed her hand on his firm chest and pressed a kiss to his scarred face.

Sansa stepped away from him with a gentle smile on her face. The feelings continued to twist her stomach, and devastation started to settle on her shoulders. He gazed back at her for a few moments, then climbed onto his horse.

She watched with a heavy heart as he began to leave the courtyard.

_ Look back at me...please. _

Nothing. No look back to see if she was still there.

Tears stung her eyes as she headed back inside the castle.


	5. Chapter Five

_ **Chapter 5** _

Oh, how she wept.

Gone. Jon and Arya had left for King’s Landing a few days ago, leaving her a broken mess. She had no idea that Arya had plans to leave with them, but when she awoke the morning of departure, she was shocked to find Arya’s bed empty.

A heartbroken Gendry had been wallowing around Winterfell’s forge, and Sansa knew she should comfort him in some way but found her own heart bleeding from heartbreak. Her mind was filled with gruesome thoughts of what may become of her family down in King’s Landing, because her family suffered harshly when down there.

At least she had Bran, well what was left of her little brother.

Sansa had yet to sleep fully through the night. Dreams plagued her through the night that viciously turned into nightmares of Jon and Arya meeting a terrible fate. She’d spent one night out in the courtyard where Gendry had eventually joined her. Both of them refused to talk about what was really troubling them deep down in their hearts.

However, as much as she wanted to lock herself away and cry, she had to keep her head up high for her people. So, she joined those left behind with repairing Winterfell. Her and Gendry worked alongside one another throughout the cold days, never mentioning their darkest secrets. He would smile at her in an understanding way, and she would nod back. She found some comfort that he was looking out for her, but she didn’t know him that well to completely welcome it.

Before her eyes, Winterfell’s wounds were patched to the best of their abilities.

Next, she visited the injured and sorted out how their lives could be made easier. Some would recover in the coming moons, however, some were scarred for life. She sent Brienne to lead some men to scavenge for food. They were running low on supplies because of the battle and celebration. At least she didn’t need to find food for an army anymore.

As the days went on by, she stopped thinking about Clegane. Her body didn’t react like it usually did when she thought of him, so it became easier to forget about him. Perhaps it was her body unconsciously protecting her? Her heart still yearned for her family, but not for Clegane.

However, weeks after their departure, he started to haunt her dreams. His touch ignited her pale skin and his rough voice pierced her ears. Every time she awoke in a sweat, and with a frustrating need to relieve herself in some way. Yet, she ignored each dream. She couldn’t think about it because it would bring back the memory of his rejection, and it would remind her that he was more than likely dead.

Then came the day that Gendry left for Storm’s End. Sansa had smiled the whole time and waved him off from the courtyard. Brienne had asked her if she was all right, and Sansa had snapped in response to her question.

Ever since Jaime Lannister left to return to his sister, Brienne’s heartbreak had turned into her becoming overbearing. Everywhere Sansa went, she wasn’t too far behind. Sansa felt sympathy for her but she was struggling with her own feelings, and dealing with Brienne’s on top of that was a lot to cope with.

That was when the dreams got worse, sometimes they were erotic other times they were filled with her witnessing his brutal death. No matter how much she screamed for it to stop, her nightmares only ended when he took his last breath.

It started to wear away her icy layer.

Her people soon saw her vulnerable side. The villagers would bring her gifts which she returned, but they would beg that she take them as thanks for her help. She had no choice but to accept reluctantly. From that point, she spent more time talking to them all about their personal lives until she knew all of them as individuals. Every day she awoke from her nightmares with a smile, then went outside to ask everyone how they fared that morning. Every complaint or idea was handled with a kind set of words, and promises that she always fulfilled. Brienne would remind her that there had still been no letters from Jon, but Sansa refused to think about it. She had to look after her people.

Bran became more distant as time went on. Sansa tried to have conversations with him but his words became more cryptic and harsh. So, with her newfound heartful approach to life, she simply kissed his head after each talk and carried on with her duties.

Winterfell transformed before her eyes. She’d never seen her people so happy and full of life. They celebrated their name days with a happy celebration in the courtyard, and she allowed the children to pretend they were Lords and Ladies on their special day.

The one thing that did bring her sadness, apart from the horrific nightmares she suffered every night, was the letters she received from Gendry addressed to Arya. Sansa never took a peek inside, instead she kept them in an old jewellery box in her solar. She would return them to Arya if she ever came back.

Two months had passed by the time a raven came to Winterfell.

Brienne had rushed through the courtyard waving the piece of parchment, Sansa was in the middle of braiding a young girl’s hair when she received the news that King’s Landing had fallen. That was all it said. Fallen. That could mean anything, so Sansa chose not to worry about it.

Her energy needed to stay focused on her people. That’s what she kept telling herself. However, a week after receiving the letter, Sansa collapsed in the courtyard in front of them all. She’d worked herself into the ground, and pushed herself closer to an early grave. Brienne had scolded her for her lack of care to her personal health, but Sansa argued that it was necessary.

All of it had been necessary to stop herself from becoming depressed about her broken heart.

She told Brienne about Clegane, and Brienne told her the truth about Jaime. Sansa vowed that if the insufferable man ever returned to Winterfell, she would have him beheaded. Brienne didn’t deserve such pain in her life, but she’d been assured that she had learnt from her mistake of trusting him with her heart.

Sansa wished she could learn to move on. But, it was too hard to move on.

The whole of Winterfell waited for news from King’s Landing but no letter arrived. She kept her people busy, as well as herself.

Another month went on by before a bird arrived with news. Jon would be arriving with the northern men shortly. No mention of Arya put her on edge, so she fell to her knees in front of Bran and begged him for answers.

He told her that she needed to focus on her health, to which she argued that there wasn’t much time. Again, she collapsed into Brienne’s waiting arms with a heavy head. She awoke in her bed covered in thick furs, but her whole body was consumed by heat.

The Maester treated her with a cold rag to the head. When little came from his help, Brienne recommended that she rest. She’d been keeping a close eye on Sansa, and relayed all the information she’d found of how Sansa had been neglecting herself.

But Sansa didn’t care. She had to look after her people. However, when the sickness came it caused her, and the rest of Winterfell, worry. Was she truly dying?

* * *

 

Brienne stood in the courtyard with her soldiers behind her, awaiting Jon’s arrival with the rest of the men. The call came for the gates to be open, and she held her breath in anticipation of the conversation she needed to have with Sansa’s brother.

The horses filtered into the courtyard and she placed her hand on her sword as Jon came in. He looked tired, much like his sister, but his tiredness was due to fatigue brought on by the war. However, Sansa’s sickness was unknown, which made it all the more terrifying.

She watched his eyes move around the people, his brows furrowed at the obvious change to the castle. The repairs may have been poorly handled but the floral decorations hanging everywhere would surprise anyone who had been gone for long.

The children ran around carelessly, singing and dancing to songs Lady Sansa had taught them. A few of the boys were shadowing the men at work, some were covered in grime from the forge, while others practised fighting with wooden swords.

A communal kitchen area was alive with noise and laughter; each stomach was filled with delicious food, and over the past two months, none of them had known hunger.

All thanks to Lady Sansa.

A small smile grew on Jon’s face as he watched the life that filled Winterfell’s grounds. Brienne’s smile was soon paused when she spotted a certain man enter on his horse.

_ Fuck. _

She turned quickly to Podrick and whispered an order in his ear.

They all came to a stop before Brienne, and she bowed in greeting. Jon dismounted with a grunt and made his way over. Worry consumed his features.

“Where’s Sansa?” He removed his riding gloves. “Brienne?”

“She’s sick, my Lord.”

“Sick?”

“Gravely.”

A loud body landed on the floor, and Brienne spotted Clegane standing next to his horse. He must’ve heard what she’d said, because his eyes immediately locked with her own.

“Take me to her,” Jon demanded, and Brienne turned to lead the way.

His steps slowed behind her as he entered the castle. The walls were lined with charcoal drawings from the children, and a variety of tapestries hung around, handmade by the women of the village.

“I’ve never seen Winterfell like this,” he said as he stopped in front of a drawing. “What happened?”

“Lady Sansa happened,” she said. “She’s changed a lot of things around here.”

He turned with a smile. “I never thought she was capable of this type of change.”

“Heartbreak can change someone.”

“Heartbreak?”

“Can I speak freely, my Lord?”

He nodded.

“Lady Sansa has suffered a lot for her family, so when you and Arya left for King’s Landing she felt abandoned. You left her for a Queen instead of defending your family, which she’s tried so hard to protect. She’s suffered a lot under the hands of cruel men, but you are the only man she adores, my Lord. She needs you more than she’ll ever admit to. She knows you have duties, which is why she’ll never tell you that she’s heartbroken every time you leave.”

Jon stared blankly at her. “Is it true?”

“All of it, my Lord.”

“Lead me to her.”

They arrived outside Sansa’s guarded door. The men moved aside and opened the door for Jon to step inside first. Sansa lay on her bed shivering beneath the skin blankets. Her fever had turned to a chill the night before, and it had caused Brienne to worry more about her unknown illness.

“Sansa,” Jon walked over to her bed and sat on the edge. She stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake up. Jon grabbed her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. “What does the Maester say?”

“He doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’d been fainting a lot before the sickness came, to which I assumed was down to her not sleeping properly.”

“You don’t think it’s just fatigue?”

“I’m not a Maester, my Lord. I believe this is her body telling her that she needs a break, but I don’t know a remedy to stop nightmares from plaguing her sleep.”

Jon frowned down at Sansa, giving her hand a tight squeeze. “I hoped to return to tell her the good news.”

“Perhaps you should’ve kept her up to date with the ongoings down in King’s Landing; it would’ve saved her a lot of heartache, my Lord.”

“Perhaps,” he whispered. “Queen Daenerys has taken King’s Landing. They surrendered during the fight, and the innocents bent the knee as soon as they saw Drogon.”

“What about the other dragon?”

“Dead. The Iron Fleet got him.”

“So what now? You know Lady Sansa won’t bend the knee.”

Jon sighed. “Queen Daenerys has requested an audience with Sansa.”

“She’ll die down there,” Brienne glanced down at the young woman on the bed. “You’d lead her to her death.”

“That’s why I’ve come to take her. Daenerys wishes to talk to her, and she’s promised it won’t end in her death.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know!”

Jon turned away from Brienne and brushed some of Sansa’s hair from her face.

“She isn’t going to force her to do anything. She wishes to talk things through.”

“Well, as you can see, my Lord, she’s in no fit state to travel.”

“I can see that,” he grunted. “The men who have come with me have offered their services to take Sansa to King’s Landing, where they’ll protect her with their lives.”

“The Hound.”

“What about him?”

“Why is he here?”

Jon narrowed his eyes at her. “He saved Arya’s life during the fight. She snuck into King’s Landing to kill Cersei, but he stopped her from letting revenge consume her. He then protected her as they entered the fighting in the streets.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Jon laughed. “Sansa has rubbed off on you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, my Lord.”

“He came to me after Queen Daenerys took the throne, and offered his service to bring Sansa to King’s Landing. He knelt before me and proclaimed that he would die protecting her if the Queen changed her mind and tried to go after Sansa.”

“Tell him to go.”

Jon got to his feet. “What don’t I know?”

Brienne sighed. She wasn’t sure whether she should betray her Lady, but she also knew that Sansa couldn’t take more heartbreak.

“She’s in love with him.”

Jon laughed, looking back at his beautiful sister. “She’s in love with The Hound?”

“She’d be hurt if she heard you mocking her feelings.”

Jon’s face fell. “You’re being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“And he doesn’t feel the same way?”

She shook her head. “He rejected her.”

“Is he blind?”

Brienne had to laugh. Of course, Lady Sansa was beautiful, and any man would be lucky to gain her interest, but not everyone cared for the way a person looked. She was just unlucky to go after such a man.

“I believe she’s come to terms with it, and no longer feels so strongly towards him, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Suddenly, Sansa stirred in her sleep. The conversation was long forgotten as she awoke from her slumber, and Jon overwhelmed her with all of his questions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

“Sansa, look at me,” Jon grabbed her hand in front of the mirror. “We don’t have to leave today.”

“I feel better this morning,” she assured him with a weak smile.

“I’ve hardly been back a day, give yourself time to recover —”

“I’d rather get my death over with.”

“You aren’t going to die, Sansa, you have my word,” he cupped her cheek.

“So, if it comes to it, will you choose me over her,” she already knew that he was going to hesitate, and when he did, she turned away from him. “We have a month long journey ahead of us. Let’s go.”

“Sansa, you are still pale!” He snapped after her. “Please, get some more rest and then we’ll head to King’s Landing.”

“We’re leaving in a few moments, Jon, we don’t want to be late.”

She left her room for the first time in a few days. Her men bowed in greeting, and she did her best to smile back at them. A brave face would assure them that things would be all right, even if she wasn’t so sure herself.

Bran, no matter the distant man he’d become, was being left in charge of Winterfell for the time being. She’d given him a list of everything that needed to be done, but she already knew that he wouldn’t see them through in his state of mind.

Leaving stress to rest heavily on her shoulders.

Sansa placed her hands at the small of her back while keeping her head up high. She made her way out into the courtyard where she saw Brienne and Podrick waiting for her.

“My Lady,” they both said with a bow.

“I’ve gathered the things you’ve asked for,” Brienne said. “I will guard the jewellry box with my life.”

“Thank-you, Brienne.”

Jon had told her that Arya was waiting for her to come to King’s Landing before she set sail for the unknown parts of the ocean. However, Sansa couldn’t let her go without seeing Gendry’s letters addressed to her.

“My lady, if I may have a word, in private,” she glanced at Podrick, who quickly left for his horse.

“What is it?” Sansa touched her cold forehead.

Her whole body was freezing, and she kept thinking about sleeping in front of the fireplace wrapped in thick furs, but none of that would take away the sickness that plagued her stomach.

“I haven’t had much of a chance to get you alone since you awoke,” Sansa could sense she was hesitant to tell her what she needed to say.

“You can tell me anything, Brienne,” she placed a hand on her armor. “We’re friends after all.”

Brienne smiled more to herself than Sansa. “You see, my Lady—”

A hand tugged at her skirt, and she turned around to stare at the small crowd of girls. She knew each of them by name and age, and before she could greet them individually, the youngest, Rosali, held out a flower crown.

“Is this for me?” All of them nodded at the same time.

Sansa chuckled, and with the help of Brienne, she lowered herself to her knees so Rosali could place it on her head.

“I love it,” she smiled at them all. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

They all raced off with blushes on their faces. Brienne pulled her to her feet then a wave of dizziness overcame her.

“Are you all right?” Brienne whispered by her ear.

“I’ll get better in the coming days.”

“That’s not what I asked, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa turned to her with a smile. “What did you want to tell me?”

Brienne cleared her throat. “Well, you see…”

She carried on talking but Sansa stopped listening. She didn’t mean to be rude. However, the sight she saw coming from behind Brienne made Sansa’s body freeze.

_ No...no...no, no, no, no — NO! _

There he was. Leading a few of the northern men on their horses. They were all packed for the long journey ahead, which didn’t make sense to Sansa.  _ Why is he here? He’s here? How? Dead… _

Sansa reached out to grab Brienne’s arm roughly. She snapped her gaze away from her heartbreaker and glared venomously at her.

“What is he doing here?!” She spat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did—“

“What do I do? I-I can’t see him again!”

Brienne took her arm and opened up the carriage door. She was, ungracefully, pushed inside and forced into her seat.

“He’s vowed to keep you safe down in King’s Landing,” Brienne spoke through the open window keeping the small curtain pushed to the side. “You’ll have to face him at some point, Lady Sansa. If you can face him just once, then it’ll make all your other interactions easier.”

Sansa sighed, and grabbed one of the fur blankets. Gods, she was cold, and she felt sick again. “I thought…I thought he was dead.”

Brienne smiled sadly. “Can I point out something?” Sansa nodded. “He wouldn’t be here if he hated you.”

She had a valid point. However, her saying so added to her confusion. What did he want from her? Did he see her the way he saw Arya? That was a terrifying thought.

“You’ve gone more pale,” Brienne said. “The rocking of the carriage will make your sickness worse—“

Podrick almost ran into Brienne when he quickly approached the window. Sansa had to smile at the flustered look on his face.

“Sorry,” he glanced up at Brienne, then returned his attention to Sansa. “A letter, milady.”

“Thank-you,” she took it without looking at the name on the back, already assuming it was from Gendry to Arya. Podrick had been put in charge of intercepting the letters from the ravens and handing it to Sansa.

“Everyone is ready to get moving now, as long as you feel you’re all right,” he explained, and she gave him a nod in response.

The starting motion of the carriage immediately caused her stomach to churn the little amount of food in there. She placed a hand to her mouth for a moment, then focused her mind on the little details of her carriage.

She couldn’t let  _ his  _ appearance cloud her judgement. Sansa needed to go to King’s Landing prepared, because she had no idea whether she would make it out of the throne room alive. It made her think about the way Joffrey had humiliated her in front of everyone, but that caused her to remember the way  _ he  _ had placed his cloak around her shoulders.

They journeyed until the sun started to set. Sansa spent most of the time trying to stop herself from being sick everywhere. She didn’t want to cause a scene by getting everyone to stop so she could empty her stomach on the ground. The curtains stayed closed, but it led her to wonder if he was riding alongside the carriage. Every time he crossed her mind, she shook her head hard, furthering her pounding headache.

The flower crown on her head had started to wilt, so she carefully placed it opposite her to save her hair from the decaying mess it would leave in her red strands.  _ I hope we stop soon.  _ She was beyond tired, but sleep was difficult in such a small space, and the rocking motion would throw her about the place.

Soon enough, the carriage rolled to a stop. She could hear the woodland sounds, and her body relaxed in relief.  _ I can’t wait to sleep.  _ The buzz of men setting up camp made her smile.  _ Yes, sleep will be with me soon.  _ They would be setting up her tent first, which meant she could rush through the camp without having to bump into a certain someone.

But, as she stared at the curtain, she wished to catch a glimpse of him. He was out in the woods somewhere, probably helping the others make fires or setting up the tents. She wanted to see him again, just one more time.

“Don’t be silly,” she whispered to herself. “He doesn’t care about me.”

Suddenly, an odd smell filled the carriage, and she recognised the stench of a horse relieving itself. Immediately, she gagged and her hands flew to her mouth. She unlocked the door quickly and stumbled out of the carriage to throw up the acidic sick in her throat. Her long nails clawed at the tree she used for support, and she continued to dry heave as her stomach didn't have anything else to bring up.

A strong hand appeared on her back, and she went rigid beneath the touch. It took her a few moments to realise it wasn’t who she wanted it to be. Jon’s handkerchief appeared before her and she leant into him as she took it.

“I told you that we could’ve waited until you felt better,” he whispered. “Let’s get you in your tent.”

Jon held her close as he led her through the forming camp. She kept her head down the whole time, dreading to think what type of looks the men were giving her.  _ How embarrassing to throw up in front of them all. _

Before she knew it, Jon was putting her bed like she was a child. He tucked her in a bid her goodnight, leaving her to stare up at the ceiling of her tent. The tiredness she’d felt the whole carriage ride had disappeared. She grumbled in frustration and wrapped the furs around her cold body. Jon’s warmth had been comforting but now he was gone, and she refused to go to his tent an awkwardly ask him to hold her until she slept.  _ The Dragon Queen would definitely have my head if someone caught us. _

So, she lay there.

Night consumed the woods, and she listened to the rumbled talk of the men outside. Their stories were crude and mildly funny to Sansa, but her ears kept trying to find a certain deep voice. She never heard him, and she started to get frustrated. She couldn’t even say his name in her head anymore because it reminded her of every feeling she’d pushed away over the past two months.

All her efforts of healing would be wasted if she gave in to the feelings starting to brew inside of her.

An owl started to sing its song from a tree somewhere, and Sansa started to feel sick again. She wrapped the furs around her shoulders and walked out of her tent. Men slept by the warm fires, and she saw a few sitting beneath trees on watch.

She hadn’t got to know these men like those back in Winterfell. A few of their names she remembered, but she knew nothing of their family and history. If she knew who they were, she’d sit and talk to them for most of the night to distract herself, but she didn’t have the energy to get to know someone at the moment.

_ Sleep. I need sleep!  _ Sansa grumbled angrily, and made her way through the trees. She carefully stepped around the sleeping men, hoping that none of them would wake up and stop her from a peaceful walk.

Finally, she broke away from the camp and entered the wilderness. The cold pinched at her skin, so she tightened her hold on the furs.  _ I just need something warm to go to sleep.  _ She could sleep by the open fire with the men, but she didn’t want to face Jon and Brienne’s wrath for doing such a thing.  _  A lady, asleep by the fire? Never has such a thing existed,  _ she sarcastically remarked in her head. However, she didn’t fancy sleeping alongside a man on the woodland floor.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. She whirled around with wild eyes, ready to attack the person, but she inhaled sharply at the sight of Clegane.

“You shouldn’t be out here on your own, little bird.”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, and the furs slipped from her shoulders. “I can go wherever I please.”

He was taken aback by her shouting, but she didn’t care. If he didn’t leave now, he was about to be on the receiving end of months of emotional build up.

A shiver shot through her body, and she felt the urge to be sick again.  _ I can’t do it in front of him. _ The embarrassment would haunt her for the rest of her life. He held a wineskin in his hand, so she snatched it from him and started to swallow the contents.  _ Wine can warm a person up, and I’m so cold. _

She hissed when she brought it away from her lips. Sansa didn’t feel any better.

“You quite finished with  _ my  _ wine,” he snatched it back with a grunt.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m on watch.”

“I meant here, up North,” she said. “Last time we spoke, you were going down to King’s Landing to die. Nothing could stop you.”

His eyes moved over her which caused heat to flood her body.  _ No! This isn’t how I want the warmth to return to my body! _

“Dragon Queen got to my brother before I could. The big fucker was squashed by her dragon trying to protect Cersei.”

She could tell by his face that he was angry that he didn’t get the chance to kill his brother. “At least he’s dead.”

He grumbled in response and took a sip of wine. She felt a blush cover her cheeks at the thought of them both sharing the same wineskin.  _ I sound pathetic  — pull yourself together, Sansa! _

Sansa turned away from him. “That doesn’t explain why you came back North.”

He appeared at her side and she immediately felt the heat coming from his body. She imagined being in his embrace would warm her up. She shook her head. There was no way she was  _ ever _ going to entertain that idea.

“Your sister told me…” he trailed off, and Sansa’s heart sank. Of course, Arya had told him to come and protect her. Everything came back to her sister. “She told me you didn’t make up all those things to get me to stay.”

Sansa’s eyes widened.  _ Oh no.  _ She couldn’t have this conversation right no _ w _ , not while she was sick.

“Why would I make something like that up? I wouldn’t have gained anything if I lied about caring for you,” she kept her eyes on the woodland floor.

The cold air crept up on her, and she wished to wrap herself around his warmth. Now that he knew she was being honest, she awaited his rejection.  _ Here it comes… _

“Why?” he breathed out. “Why, little bird?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why me?”

She turned to him in confusion. “Why not you? Is it so difficult to believe someone cares about you?”

“Yes,” he finally looked into her eyes. “If it’s you, then it is difficult to believe. Women like you don’t go around caring for dogs —”

“Shut up,” she growled through gritted teeth. “Don’t do that to yourself, not in front of me.”

“It’s the truth,” his eyes moved to her lips then back to her eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of maidens think they care for the dogs in life, but soon enough, the golden knights they’ve been dreaming of come along.”

“You were once a golden knight, especially to me,” her hands ached to touch him. She remembered how close they’d got in the forge, but she was unsure about how he’d react in his self-degrading state.

He inhaled sharply. Anger flashed in his eyes, and she was prepared to jump down the angry hole with him.  _ Can’t we have a civilised conversation.  _ It was then that her hand moved on its own accord, and rested on his chest  — his warm chest.

Sansa sighed with a small smile.  _ Seven Hells, he’s warm, so warm. _

“What are you doing?” he growled.

“Touching you,” she stated. “Is that all right?”

Sansa tilted back her head to look up at him. She could see the inner battle he was having in his mind; she had no idea why he had to think so much about it, does he truly think she would be cruel enough to lie about caring for him?

“Will...will you hold me?” she asked. “I’m so cold.”

He pushed her hand off his chest, and she gasped in shock. She’d pushed him too far.  _ Stupid Sansa!  _ However, he surprised her by grabbing her wrist and guiding her back to camp. She stared down at his large hand around her wrist with a coy smile.  _ I love his hands.  _ She thought it was an odd thing to fantasize about, but she remembered the erotic dreams she’d had about him and the way they’d made her quiver.

Everyone was fast asleep when they returned, and he led her safely to her tent. She expected him to push her inside without saying goodnight, instead, he walked inside the tent with her behind him.  _ What’s happening?  _ Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat.

Suddenly, his hand came up to her forehead. She stilled beneath his touch with a blush. “You’re freezing cold.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I can’t get warm.”

He stepped away from her and she watched as he took off the solid pieces of his armor. Her lips parted in shock as she realised what he was doing.  _ Oh, no, I can’t do this. _

“Lay down, little bird,” her body refused to listen to her mind, and dropped her furs to the floor and lay down on her bed.

A few moments later, she felt him appear next to her, then an arm reached out. She landed against his warm chest with a sigh. Screw what her mind was shouting at her; her body relaxed against his, content with finally being warm.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter 7**

Warm. Gods, she’s never been so warm. Wherever she was right now, she refused to leave for any reason. She wanted to stay this way forever.

Strong arms held her tight and the slow beating of his heart was bird song to her mind. Every part of her body was relaxed and at peace. Nothing could harm her here, wherever she was.

And that’s when she remembered where she was.

Voices, she could hear voices.

Sansa’s eyes flew open and she stopped rhythmically moving against the body she was wrapped around. She sat up slowly and stared down at the sleeping man beneath her.  _ Seven Hells, I slept with Sandor Clegane. _ Well, she didn’t  _ sleep  _ with him, but if anyone ever saw them they would only think that she had done that sort of sleep.

It took her a few moments to recover.

She soon realised that her body had become normal again. Her temperature wasn’t freezing cold nor was it raging hot.  _ I feel normal again.  _ There was still an unsettled feeling in her stomach, but she knew that her body was now crying out for the food she’d skipped.

“Sansa!” She saw Jon’s silhouette at the closed flap. “Are you awake?”

“I’m up, Jon,” her words awoke Clegane, and she automatically placed her hand against his mouth. He must’ve been half asleep, mistaking her for an unwelcome guest, because she found herself being thrown on her back and pinned beneath him.

She held back her squeal of fright, and watched him blink a few times to gather his senses. When he registered it was her, he quickly got to his feet and gathered his armour.

“We’re going to start moving soon,” Jon said. “Do you know where The Hound is?”

“Don’t call him that!” She snapped without thinking, and Clegane froze for a moment then continued putting on his armour. “I’ll be ready soon.”

Jon disappeared without another word, and Sansa returned her attention to Clegane. She felt awkward. What was she supposed to say to him? The least she could say was thank-you.

“I would like to thank-you for what you did—“

“Don’t mention it,” he pinned her with a look. “Ever.”

She opened and closed her mouth as she watched him walk out the back flap so no one would see him.  _ Rejected, once again. _

Later on, Sansa decided to travel by horse for a while. She rode in the middle of Brienne and Podrick. The fresh air against her cheek settled her uneasy stomach, and she made sure to inform Brienne of her wellness so the woman would stop looking at her all the time. However, she continued to stare.

Was she wearing her heartache so obviously on her face?

Her thoughts drifted back to Clegane. He’d felt like Home as she wrapped herself around him, and it furthered the desire that tugged at her heart. Things had really been easy when she thought him to be dead. Yes, she may have carried on with her life with a heavy heart, but at least she could think of his memory fondly instead of thinking of him with need.

_ Perhaps I should kiss him? That would get my point across.  _ She thought of all the ways he could react, and none of them ended well for her. Maybe this was the world punishing her for wanting princes and knights throughout her youth?

However, Sansa recalled his words from the night before. He’d come back because Arya had told him that she hadn’t been lying about her feelings for him. That had to mean he felt something, otherwise he wouldn’t come back North for her; he wouldn’t have declared his life to her. He was the one that held her all night in her tent  — it had to mean something, because it meant everything to her.

Sansa shook her head and caught Brienne staring again. She could see her friend was sad as well. Jon had said that Daenerys was keeping Jaime and Cersei prisoner. Sansa didn’t understand why the Dragon Queen hadn’t destroyed her enemies immediately, but it seemed she had other plans for them.

At least she didn’t burn King’s Landing to the ground. Sansa was glad that she’d listened to her, which meant that she was going to be asked to bend the knee before the Queen on the iron throne.

_ I can’t do that...I just can’t do that to the North. _

“Milady?”

She turned to look at Podrick. “Yes?”

“You left this letter in the wheelhouse,” he handed her the letter she’d discarded.

“Isn’t it for Arya from Gendry?”

“No, milady. It’s from Gendry to you,” she took the letter from him and spotted her name on the back.

“Oh,” she said. “Thank-you for being so observant, Podrick, I would have put it in the jewellry box.”

Podrick blushed with a smile. “It’s my pleasure, milady.”

Sansa held the rein with one hand and awkwardly ripped open the letter. Her small smile faded from her face as her eyes widened further. “No...you absolute idiot... idiot...again, idiot...what in seven hells is her blabbering about?!”

Brienne snatched the letter from her and scanned it quickly then finished with a huff. “You’re right, my lady, he is an idiot.”

Sansa took back the letter shaking her head. Her outburst had caught the attention of the men in their small party. She blushed and smiled awkwardly.

“Will you write back to him?” Brienne asked.

“Of course I will.”

She had no other choice but to respond to him. How could he seriously think she would welcome such a letter?

_ Gendry has asked for my hand in marriage. _

They stopped again at nightfall, and Sansa was surrounded by pieces of parchment. She kept changing her mind on what she should write in response to Gendry’s letter. He’d outlined to her all the reasons why she should marry him, and how it would be his honor to finally join the Stark and Baratheon families. She kept muttering to herself that it was all a joke. It had to be.

However, a part of her knew she needed to handle the situation delicately. Gendry was clearly unstable after Arya’s rejection and was forcing his feelings onto the closest thing that could link him to her.  _ Me, unfortunately. _

She’d fled into her tent the moment it was set up without a second thought about Clegane. Gendry had provided her with the necessary distraction to forget about him for a moment. She needed the break from him because it was starting to drain her physically, and she refused to admit that her mysterious illness might have been caused by her own heartache.

_ I can’t believe I thought about kissing him tonight.  _ She couldn’t hear any noises coming from outside so that meant everyone was asleep.  _ He should be asleep by now. _

_ Great, now I can’t stop thinking about kissing him. _

* * *

 

**Sandor** .

He wants her.

Needs her.

Loves her.

Yet, something inside of him won’t let him have her.

Something inside of him had almost broken when she tried to get him to stay at Winterfell, and that thing was his heart. However, black and cruel it was, it still held her opinions in high regard. She cared about him, but not in the way he cared for her. Never in the way he cared for her.

Then, Arya’s words after the battle down in King’s Landing had caused his whole world to crumble. She truly meant all that she’d said to him, and he’d left her behind with cruel words and a cold departure. How could she even begin to care for him? Did she wish to experiment with rough men before she moved on to marrying her prince?

Arya hadn’t used the word love, only desire. He could deal with desire, even if it didn’t fulfill his hearts needs, he could have hope with desire. Yet, he couldn’t cope if she stopped desiring him and wanted love from another man. Love that he would give limbs for her to welcome and return.

Sandor stayed at his post beneath the tree. He could see the candlelight coming from her tent, and he occasionally saw her shadow move around waving her arms about. Something was bothering his Little Bird.

He swallowed the lump at the back of his throat. He couldn’t shake the memory of the morning. She’d wrapped herself around his body and clung to him for dear life. He’d been awake when she awoke to the realisation that she’d been moving her body against his side. His painful erection had been covered by the furs, but he had to get out of there fast. Once more, he left her with a sour departure, unable to communicate how he felt.

He’d thought long and hard on his journey back to Winterfell. How could he have got so lucky to be able to be of her interest? Every battle and fight had been about survival for himself, and now that she’d returned to his mind, she had soon become his main goal for fighting. He would always come back for her.

Over the recent years, the only thing keeping him going had been the younger Stark. He’d never admit it to her face, but she’d saved his life in more ways than she could ever know. She’d healed him mentally and given him something to live for.

And now he had one more person to add beneath Arya’s name.

Sandor knew that she had been through horrific things to get to being the Lady of Winterfell. The northern men talked of her rape and the abuse she received under Ramsay Bolton’s ruling. If the Lord was still alive he’d rip him limb from limb, but he knew that he’d be fighting people off with his sword to get there first.

A few of the men sat nearby. They talked in hushed whispers so he couldn’t hear, and he wasn’t happy that their eyes kept moving to Sansa’s tent.

Finally, he managed to hear a part of their conversation. “Tits aren’t big...slim body though...ha! Definitely wouldn’t mind a go—“

Sandor had him by the back of his tunic and hoisted him to his feet. “What was that?”

“N-Nothing!” He squirmed. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Go and say that to Lady Sansa’s face,” he growled. “I dare you.”

The man looked ready to empty his stomach onto Sandor’s boots, so he released him with a rough push then returned to his post. His eyes landed on her tent and he watched the candlelight disappear.

_ Little bird is sleeping. _

He felt sadness. There was no reason for him to feel that way. What was he expecting? For her to sneak off into the woods and find him?

Sandor stayed at his post for a short while until he needed to piss. He disappeared away from the camp and pulled himself from his breeches and pissed on the tree. It was then that he felt someone watching him, and he turned to see his Little Bird standing nearby with wide eyes.

“S-Sorry!” She exclaimed. “I-I didn’t mean to…” he watched her cheeks flush red.

She looked beautiful beneath the moonlight, and he wished to reach out and brush his fingers against her cheeks. The voices in his head started to call him sick and twisted for wanting her.

“Shouldn’t be out here on your own,” he grumbled. “I’ll take you back.”

He walked over to her but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm. Sandor glanced down at her slender hand with a frown.

“I came to see you,” she whispered.

“There’s no reason for you to need me, little bird.”

Her eyes found his. “You said to me that my sister told you about my feelings.”

“Aye, what of it?”

An invisible force clenched around his heart as she moved to stand in front of him. He could tell she was nervous by the way her eyes moved about, never settling on a certain spot.

“I care for you.”

And there it was. The words that could be his undoing. He should just kiss her senseless against one of the trees without a single thought about the consequences. However, he knew that she was mixing up her feelings for him. She cannot possibly care for him the way he cares for her.

“Little bird—“

“Let me finish,” she placed her hand on his chest. “When you left for King’s Landing it broke me. I could hardly sleep, and when I did, it was full of nightmares and terrifying images of your death. My heart was broken, and it still is. I’ve always felt something towards you, but it wasn’t until the celebration after the war until I realised I desire you. You’ve always had a certain spot in my heart, and it’s something I wish to explore with you.”

He tossed her hand from his chest. “I’m not here for you to explore your pathetic feelings with. Go and find some handsome knight to do your bidding. I ain’t it, girl.”

Of course it hurt him. He wanted her love and affection. Sandor needed her to feel the same way he did, otherwise he would never touch her. He couldn’t live through the pain it would cause if she one day decided she was bored of him.

“But, you are it,” she held her hands close to her chest. “You disregard my feelings quite brutally. There is nothing more I want in this world than to explore how I feel—“

“Enough!” He snapped with a venomous look in his eyes. “Get these ridiculous thoughts out of your head! I don’t care if you want to  _ explore  _ your feelings; I’m not interested!”

Her shoulders slumped. “So you hold no feelings towards me?”

“I never said that,” he said before he could stop himself.

A smile grew on her face that caused everything inside of him to come alight. Her beauty and softness shined through her eyes, and his hands twitched to ravish her.

She took a small step closer so her bosom was almost touching his chest. He inhaled sharply and held his breath. It reminded him of that time in the forge when her fingers had touched his lips and scarred cheek.

“I’m done talking to you, my lady,” he said with a rough growl. He went to move past her but was stopped when she grabbed his neck and pressed her lips against his own.

Sandor froze. He couldn’t stop himself from doing so. She immediately pulled away because of his rigid manner with a frown.

“Sandor—“

“I’m in love with you, little bird!” He spat. “I ain’t here for you to experiment with, so leave me the hell alone!”

And with that, he left her all alone in the woods with a heavy heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I promise the love is coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I'm writing this to ease the pain the show has caused me! :D


End file.
